Weatherby
by rat-patooty
Summary: As a recent employee of the Ministry of Magic, Percy Weasley's path to success is close at hand. Audrey McGlasson knows there is more to life than constant studying, which is why the wide-eyed Hufflepuff never stopped pining for a certain (handsome) Gryffindor Prefect. The two seek solace in one another during the politically turbulent times of the Dark Lord's second rise to power.
1. The Yule Ball

CHAPTER ONE: THE YULE BALL

What was he _doing here_? Honestly, he was too old to be back at Hogwarts.

Percy Weasley tugged at the collar of his dress robes, despite the fact that he'd told himself repeatedly to stop fidgeting. The Great Hall had been transformed into a gorgeous winter paradise, all glittering frost and garlands of mistletoe and ivy. Students from all three Wizarding Schools participating in the Triwizard Tournament laughed and flirted, danced and mingled. Even the professors had lost themselves to the sheer volume of merriment. . . . Unlike Percy, who wanted nothing more than to simply go home.

He _knew _Mr. Crouch had been overwhelmed by recent events, and he deserved a peaceful, quiet Christmas, free of more unpleasant interruptions—and Percy was more than happy to represent him! But he didn't belong here anymore. The time for networking and discussing his plethora of accomplishments under Mr. Crouch's employ had come and gone, and now all anyone wanted was to use what remained of the evening for fun.

Percy fought the urge to roll his eyes. _Fun_. Didn't anyone realize there were more worthwhile ways to spend their time, especially in light of current circumstances?

"WEASLEY!"

Startled, Percy turned toward the rather loud voice of Ludo Bagman, making his way precariously over to the Head Table, where Percy was seated.

"Come along, now, Weasley, why so glum?" Bagman chuckled, eyes slightly glazed. "This is a celebration after all!" He shoved a rather full glass into the younger man's hand, slopping liquid onto the floor and all over Percy's navy dress robes. For Morgana's sake, they were brand new!

"Indeed, sir, indeed." Percy forced a smile as Bagman nodded his approval and gave him a hearty slap on the back, upsetting even more of his drink. Much to his relief, Bagman turned away with a rustling of robes, and Percy set off toward the refreshment table to find a napkin or two.

He eyed the decadent spread of hors d'oeuvres while mopping the drink from his robes, but nothing stirred his appetite. Just as well, really—for some reason, he'd felt a bit ill all evening. Unnecessary nerves, the pressure of appearing in Mr. Crouch's place. . . . With a sigh, he studied what was left of the drink in his hand and tossed it back.

_ Firewhisky_! Percy coughed and sputtered, his eyes streaming. The burning sensation traveled down his throat, roared to life in his chest, and eventually came to an intense smolder in the pit of his stomach. A grin spread slowly across his face. Despite the initial shock, that had felt surprisingly . . . _good_.

Someone's booming laughter sounded behind him, and he found himself with another drink in his hand. "_That's _the spirit, Weasley!" came the distant sound of Bagman's voice from within a large crowd of passing professors. Percy giggled, despite himself.

The logical part of his mind scolded him for accepting the drinks in the first place; he'd surely regret such indulgence in the morning. But a different part of him—one he was not accustomed to listening to—urged him to swallow the second glass of firewhisky in one gulp.

Down the hatch it went.

He could almost picture the raging inferno in his belly, warming him, emboldening him. Merlin's beard, he could certainly _feel _it! He attempted to stifle a belch, but the black plume of smoke rising from his mouth ruined any chance of subtlety. He choked down a laugh and straightened the lapels of his robes.

Perhaps he ought to _socialize _a while—would striking up a conversation _really _be so terrible? Percy swaggered along the edge of the crowd, watching the dance floor with a ridiculous grin on his face.

It was easy to spot flashes of the red hair he himself had inherited. Fred was dancing flamboyantly with Angelina Johnson, exaggerating everything and making her laugh. That was Freddie for you! Always the jokester, that one! Percy chuckled.

And over in the left-hand corner was George, who seemed to be taking the whole dancing business rather seriously. He was waltzing with a girl Percy had never seen before, with porcelain skin and ginger hair as vibrant as his family's. Her emerald gown billowed as they swirled around the floor. George never looked away from her, as though all the other attendees had disappeared altogether, and they were the only couple remaining.

An unhappy feeling settled over Percy as he watched them. Had this Ball happened while he was still enrolled at Hogwarts, he might have been just as enchanted as George with his date. Penelope Clearwater would have looked lovely dancing around the Hall, her long hair curled and pinned, wearing a sky blue dress to compliment her eyes . . . all softness and light and beauty. . . .

Something tightened in his chest. _Don't __you __dare __go __moping __again, __feeling __sorry __for __yourself_, a sharp voice barked in his head. _YOU __broke __up __with __HER, __don't __forget_. Percy heaved a sigh and shook his head. The whisky was still boiling inside of him, and it quickly flared back to life, coating him in comforting waves of heat and carelessness.

The current song came to an end, and Percy clapped louder than anyone else. He scanned the room, watching the guests exchange partners, rush off for refreshments, or simply ready themselves for the next dance. His eyes fell upon a flash of blue, and the color stood out so vividly, he turned back for a second look. Several young ladies present were wearing blue, but this dress was the color of the purest sapphire.

_ Sapphires aren't always blue, you idiot. They come in a vast array of colors._

The whisky told the haughty voice to shut up.

Percy stared at the woman wearing the jewel-colored gown and felt his mouth go slack. Her skin was rosy and fair, the makeup applied to her face subtle, but striking. She had unusually short hair for a girl, but the way it was styled was undeniably feminine. He gulped and wet his lips, a strange fluttering in his chest. She was . . . beautiful.

Was she a Hogwarts student? _Hmm_, no, perhaps not . . . there was something about the severity of her nose and the delicate shape of her face that made him wonder if she was from Beauxbatons. Surely she was seventeen? Sixteen, at the very least. She had to be! No one younger could have such a . . . _voluptuous_. . . figure. . . . Could they?

Sweat trickled down the length of his spine, and this time, the heat had nothing to do with the firewhisky. Percy let out a quavering breath and was relieved to see George coming straight toward him. "George!" he hissed, snatching his brother's elbow and spinning him around.

"Whoa, 'ello to you, too!" George said with a grin. He squinted at Percy, frowning. "You look terrible. What's gotten into you?"

"Firewhisky," Percy heard himself confess, suddenly fearful of the roiling in his stomach. He belched another cloud of smoke. George snorted.

"It's not funny, George!" Percy snapped. "I need your help."

"What, brewing a potion to cure a hangover?" George chuckled.

Percy rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot! Do you . . . do you recognize that girl?" He spun George in the correct direction and pointed uselessly in front of them.

"Erm . . . _which _girl, Perce? There are a good number of them, you see."

"Oh, you know, _her_! _That _one . . ." Percy began, flustered. His eyes widened. "The . . . the girl talking to _your __date_!"

"Oh!" George said easily. "Audrey. Why didn't you say so?"

"You know her, then?" Percy grasped his brother's dress robes, pulling him closer. George stared back at him, alarmed.

"Yeeeeeees," he cautiously replied. "She's Rhose's best friend. They're both in Hufflepuff."

"Hufflepuff!" Percy released George and mulled the concept over. He smiled thoughtfully. "_Hufflepuff _. . ."

"That's right, Perce, _Hufflepuff_." George took a step back and gingerly patted the top of Percy's head. "But wet's not go and fwighten the poor girl!" he cooed, as if to entice a toddler. Percy scowled.

"I have no interest whatsoever in frightening her!" he retorted, crossing his arms.

"Oh yeah?" George smirked. "Then what _is _your interest in her?"

Percy's face grew hotter; he wasn't accustomed to being at a loss for words. "I . . . I merely wished to pay her a compliment." He removed his horn-rimmed glasses and tucked them safely within his suit coat. "That . . . _dress _. . . is rather stunning."

"Uh _huh_." George was still smirking. Percy chose to ignore this. He cleared his throat and rushed past his brother.

"Thank you, George. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Look at you, Perce! Never pegged you for liking younger women! Go get her, mate!" George called after him.

Percy snorted and batted his brother's comment away. Really, she wasn't _that _much younger! Besides, he meant what he'd said. He only wished to pay her a compliment. . . .

_ Good __evening, __my __name __is __Percy __Weasley, __Personal __Assistant __to __Mr. __Bartemius __Crouch__. __I __couldn't __help but notice that stunning gown. . . .  
_

Everything in the distance was blurred around the edges, (perhaps he had taken off his glasses a bit prematurely) but her expression became clearer with each step. She was still talking to George's date (What-Was-Her-Name . . . Rhose?) but her eyes didn't hold the mirth of their conversation. . . .

_ Hello, __I'm __Percy __Weasley. __(charming __laugh) __Maybe __you've __met __a __few __of __my __siblings? __By __the __by, __that __is __a stunning __gown!_

She looked . . . a little sad, to be honest. Huh . . . wonder why . . .?

_ I __don't __mean __to __be __forward, __but __you __look __stunning __in __that __gown__. __How __do __you __do? __Percy __Weasley. __(pause, for dramatic effect) . . . And you might be . . .__?_

Oh God, there she was.

"I MUST say, THAT gown is STUNNING."

A long silence stretched between them.

_ Percy, old boy . . . what the bloody HELL was that?!_

He could have kicked himself. George's date looked confused, and _she _looked like she was about to turn and bolt from the room. Terrified. She was absolutely terrified.

_ Damn, that firewhisky! Damn, damn, damn it all, DAMN!_

"I'm sorry!" he blurted, reaching a hand out to her, but thought better of it just in time. "What I mean to say . . . is . . . that I, ah . . . I-I'm . . . P-Percy . . ."

"Percy Weasley," she replied in a soft, lilting accent; it came out "Pear-say Wheeze-lay." His heart performed that odd little flutter.

"Y-yes." He attempted a smile. "And I would be . . . very humbled to . . . to know your name . . . as well?"

She lowered her lashes before finding the courage to meet his gaze. "A-Audrey," she replied, voice scarcely louder than a whisper. "My . . . my name is Audrey. Audrey McGlasson."

"Audrey." The smile on his face was suddenly genuine. "That's lovely."

A blush rushed to her cheeks and she had to look away again. Percy grinned.

"Another waltz, m'lady?" George yelled, startling everyone. The girl whose name may or may not have been Rhose beamed at the sight of his brother.

"Would love to, darling!" she called, grasping George's arm so he could sweep her back onto the dance floor. Both Audrey and Percy watched them go before turning nervously back to one another.

"Ah . . ." Percy awkwardly clapped his hands together once. "Would . . . would you like to . . .?"

"Yes!"

He paused mid-gesture toward the dance floor to give her a quizzical look. Audrey's blush deepened, and for some reason, the sight warmed him inside.

"Well, then . . ." He offered her his hand, which she gingerly accepted. "Shall we?"

Audrey nodded and gave him the hint of a dazzling smile. For a moment, it seemed all the torches in the sconces blazed a bit brighter. Beaming, Percy found the tempo of the music, and set his first dance of the night into motion. With Audrey.

That really was a _lovely _name.

Neither of them was particularly skilled when it came to dancing, but this actually worked in their favor. They stumbled over one another's feet, laughing and growing more relaxed, song after song. Percy couldn't help but notice that Audrey had a nice, warm laugh that complimented her smile—which, he had to add, was radiant. Happiness seemed to be her most natural emotion, once her timidity wore off. There was a sharpness in her eyes that he interpreted as intelligence, and his interest was piqued all the more.

_ We ought to stop and have a proper conversation . . ._

But for the first time in ages, as they fumbled around the dance floor, Percy found himself . . . having _fun_! And he wasn't ready to quit just yet. Yes, this attitude was hypocritical, but he didn't care. Come to think of it, he could _justify _this bit of frivolity, as he was, after all, here to promote Magical _Cooperation__._

One dance ended, and the next began. This time, Audrey and Percy hesitated. The song was much slower than the ones to which they'd previously danced, and neither of them really knew how to go about it. To Percy's surprise and relief, Audrey took the initiative, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed her body closer until it was just brushing his, and Percy again felt an intense heat creeping up the back of his neck.

"Is this alright?" she whispered, lifting her gaze to meet his. Percy swallowed and nodded.

"Absolutely," he replied, just as softly. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he brought them forward and they settled onto her hips. His face grew hotter, but he maintained his resolve, pressing his hands into the silk of her gown. Audrey smiled and adjusted her arms, pulling him a fraction closer.

They knew virtually nothing about one another, and yet . . . the way she looked at him, the implication in some of her gestures. . . . Was she . . . were _they_. . .? Percy fought the urge to grimace at his own irrationality. Just because he found her rather attractive did _not _mean that she felt the same way about. . . . He cleared his throat and tried to shove the idea from his mind.

"Galleon for your thoughts," Audrey muttered, a gentle smile on her lips. "You seem . . . perplexed."

Percy chuckled. "Perplexed. Yes, yes, that's actually a rather . . . _accurate _word for it, I suppose." He found himself beaming down at her, not for the first time this evening, he noted. "It's . . . ah, it's just . . . I've just realized that I know hardly anything about you, and perhaps we ought to . . . well, remedy that. . . . What do you think?"

"Sure!" Audrey nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, let's . . . let's do that."

"I don't suppose you're . . ." Percy leaned forward conspiratorially. "Hungry, by chance? Because, well, I'm afraid I rather am . . ." The realization surprised him. "I-I barely touched my meal when dinner was served." His face was very close to hers. "Nerves, you know . . ."

Audrey giggled and lowered her arms from around his neck. "I'm starving!" She took a hold of his arm and steered him off of the dance floor, which held half as many couples as it had earlier in the evening.

To their delight, the remaining food hadn't been cleared away. Percy's mouth watered as he piled some of everything onto his plate. What had he been thinking when he'd turned his nose up at it earlier? Once again, any hope of conversation was placed on hold as the two of them helped themselves. However, Percy paused to stare at Audrey when a loud moan escaped her lips.

She didn't seem to notice his concern for quite some time. Her eyes were closed, and she stood perfectly still, completely unaware of everything around her. It was difficult to say if the frown on her face was due to pain or ecstasy. When her eyes finally fluttered open, one look at Percy sent her into a fit of laughter.

"Are you alright?" he asked, amused. Audrey nodded, waiting until she'd swallowed her food to reply.

"Sorry!" she giggled, raising a hand to her mouth. "But have you tried the quiche yet? It's _fantastic_."

With a cock of an eyebrow, Percy took a tentative bite. An explosion of rich, buttery flavor caressed his tongue . . . not to mention that irresistible flakiness . . .

"Mmm!" he moaned, surprised.

Audrey raised her eyebrows. "Mmm _hmm_?" she hummed through another bite.

"Mmm HMM!" Percy agreed. His brow furrowed with longing. "_Mmm _. . ."

Audrey was beside herself with laughter and Percy joined in, tickled by the somehow intelligible exchange. "Again, sorry about that," she continued between bites. "It's just, I _love _good food! Well, _all _food, really. But especially something as delicious as this!" She held up what was left of her quiche.

Percy nodded. "This _is _superb. Well, Hogwarts food always is, isn't it? But in my _humblest _opinion, nothing can compare with my mother's cooking. I'm sure you'd love it; her food is handmade and comforting and makes you feel . . . at home."

"I know what you mean." Audrey smiled wistfully. "Every one of my step-mum's recipes fills you up and warms you from the inside, out."

"Oh . . . Step-mother, you say?" Percy asked through another mouthful of food. He wiped his fingers on his dress robes and only realized what he'd done after it was too late. What was _going __on _with him? "Er . . . I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry . . ."

"No, no! It's fine," Audrey reassured. In fact, she seemed flattered that he'd shown interest. "My parents divorced when I was ten. Both have magic," she added with a sly smile, answering the question without him having to ask.

"Oh." Percy's shoulders slumped. Of course, having a step-mother was evidence that her parents were no longer together, but hearing her say the words aloud made him feel guilty for asking. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Oh no! Don't be. I mean, thank you, that's very sweet . . . But, actually, it all worked out for the best. They both got remarried, and they're _much _happier. My step-father comes from a very old, established Wizarding family in Wiltshire, and my step-mum is a Muggle. She and Da live just outside of Dumfries."

Percy chuckled. "Ah, keep the both of them away from my father, then! He _adores _Muggles. He'd drill them incessantly with questions—Father also works for the Ministry, you see. Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"_Speaking _of the Ministry," Audrey interjected. "I'd be curious to know what _you _do in your position. I mean, George mentioned that you worked there, but he was pretty vague when it came to specifics. . . ."

Percy studied her. "That's right," he mused. "You know George. You're friends with his date, aren't you? Is . . . is _that _how you knew my full name? You already knew who I was."

A flicker of panic filled Audrey's eyes. She blushed and tore her gaze from his. "Well . . . erm, yes, I . . . I know George because of Rhose, but I've . . . I've always known . . . who you are. You . . . you were a Prefect, and . . . it's hard _not _to know who makes Head Boy, isn't it?"

Percy's eyes widened. "So we _were _in school together! I knew we had to be. Strange, but I don't seem to recall meeting you until now. And for that, I am terribly sorry." He grinned when she finally managed to meet his eye.

"I wouldn't expect you to remember me." She chuckled. "I always thought you were . . . a little out my league, to be honest."

"Now _that_, I find very hard to believe." Percy set his empty plate down on the refreshment table and took a few steps closer to Audrey. She was so short, and he so tall, that she only came to his chest. His smile broadened and he offered her his arm. "It's a bit stifling in here, isn't it?"

Audrey nodded, relieved, and wrapped her arm through his. This time, she brought her other hand up to rest on his bicep and hugged his arm close to her while they made their way out of the castle and into the crisp winter air. The heat of their breath turned to wisps of steam, and a shiver ran down Percy's spine—though, that _might _have been due to Audrey pressing closer to him as they wound through the rose bushes.

The glimmering fairies nested in the foliage tittered and sighed, offering a hint of warm, ambient light. The effect was rather ethereal and . . . Percy hesitated to use the term, but it was undeniable that it lent for a rather . . . _romantic _setting. Audrey stopped in the middle of the path, and Percy followed her line of vision, up to the night sky. She released a soft sigh and rested her head against his shoulder.

Despite the pounding of his heart, Percy felt perfectly at ease. There wasn't a hint of rationality behind it, but he _knew _everything about this moment was exactly as it should have been. Everything was inexplicably right.

"I still want to know about your work at the Ministry," Audrey murmured, and the sweetness in her voice made his stomach tingle in a pleasant sort of way.

Percy felt his chest swell. "No, you don't," he chuckled in a laughable attempt to dissuade her. "It's really not all _that _interesting. You'd be bored to tears, surely."

"No, I wouldn't!" she urged, giving his arm the gentlest squeeze. "Please, tell me."

He was unaccustomed to hearing that request; his anecdotes and achievements were always met with glazed stares, disinterest, and polite tolerance at best. No one willingly _encouraged _him to talk about himself, and Percy's ego raised its head at the invitation.

And so he began, launching into a well-rehearsed monologue highlighting every key component of his career and his influence in serving the Ministry. These stories dovetailed into the general politics of his Department, critiques of colleagues, and countless digressions in between. All the while, he was fully aware that he was talking too much. He should have paused periodically, asked Audrey about _her _life . . . but she was such a deliciously receptive audience that he couldn't bring himself to stop. Not only was she intently listening to what he had to say, but she seemed to genuinely _care _about him and his contributions. It was so refreshing to be appreciated for once!

" . . . and _that's _why the Transylvanians are so hesitant to sign off on this proposal. It seems that no matter how we present it to them, no matter what angle we use to address the issue, they simply refuse to comply. There is _much _progress to be made on that particular front, no doubt about it . . ." Percy released a content sigh and turned to find Audrey still watching him, hanging on his every word. "But . . . that's enough talk about international relations," he chuckled. "Tell me more about you."

Audrey grinned and shook her head. "There's not much to say, really."

"Modesty does _not _become you, Audrey," he teased, lightly elbowing her in the side with the arm she was still holding.

She broke into her gorgeous smile and laughed. "Promise you won't make fun of me!" she ordered.

"Cross my heart." Percy fondly watched as she released his arm and took a few steps forward, before turning around and finally presenting her story.

"My best talent doesn't lie in magic. Magic helps, of course, but . . . I'm an artist. I've been drawing all my life, and I've thrown my heart and soul into my Charms classes because ever since I was little, I was fascinated by the _Daily __Prophet_. I didn't know how it was done at the time, obviously, but I always knew that _someone _had to lay out all that text; _someone _had to illustrate those bold headlines; _someone _had to place those photographs harmoniously with everything else.

"And now, I've finally realized that that someone could be me! It's a beautiful blend of working with your hands and using your magic to the fullest extent, and it takes such precision and skill and attention to detail and . . ."

She paused to assess Percy's reaction. "Does all of this sound stupid?" she muttered, all the certainty and passion fading from her words.

"Audrey," Percy stammered. "That's brilliant."

"Really?" The excitement instantly returned. "You _really _think so?"

"Of course! It's . . . _brilliant_. I can't say I've met many aspiring designers for the _Daily __Prophet_."

"A designer, yes, that's it exactly! The only thing is, I have no clue how to get started. What to do, who to contact. See, I want to do this myself—I don't want to rely on my parents' influence. But . . . I guess I have some time to figure everything out . . ."

"Of course you do. There's always time. And, if you'd permit me . . ." Percy reached into the breast pocket of his robes, pulled out his business card, and offered it to her. "I completely understand forging your own way to your career. To accomplish your goals on your own—you're right, there's nothing like it! But if you need anything—if you don't mind using a little of _my _influence—I might be able to help lead you in the right direction. I _do _know a good number of people at the Ministry who might be able to help."

Audrey took his card with a kind of reverence. "Thank you," she whispered. She raised her eyes back up to his and broke into a huge grin. "_Thank __you_, Percy! I can't tell you how much I appreciate this!"

Percy beamed. "It's nothing. And, by the way . . ." He took out his wand and waved it once over the business card. When nothing happened, Audrey flipped it over to the backside, and there, written in his neat, careful scrawl, was a different address.

"The card only has my Ministry contact information," he explained, leaning forward. "But if you ever had any _other _questions . . . of a less . . . _professional _nature, you can always reach out to me here." He pointed to the home address with the tip of his wand. "No obligation, obviously, but if . . . if you like . . ." Percy pocketed his wand in an attempt to stop his rambling.

"You _really _think this is a good idea? That this is something I can do?"

"Absolutely. You are a remarkable witch, Audrey," Percy insisted, lowering his face to hers. "And I know for an absolute fact that you will succeed in everything you want to accomplish."

He felt her labored breathing against his skin as he brought his face gradually closer, with the intention of pressing his mouth to hers. But at the last possible second, Audrey dodged his advance, and placed her lips on his cheek.

"Thank you, Percy," she whispered, still tantalizingly close. He wanted to make another attempt, but she quickly took a step back, which gave him a chance to clear his head and rethink his actions. He made an affair of clearing his throat and tried desperately to ignore the heat coloring his ears and face.

"I'm . . ." He coughed again. "I'm . . . sorry. _Very _sorry. Er . . . must be that . . . ah . . . That damned firewhisky. I'm terribly, _terribly _sorry . . ."

Audrey's eyes widened. "_Firewhisky_?" she echoed, sounding both appalled and impressed. A grin spread slowly across her face. "I don't recall seeing any of _that _next to the kegs of butterbeer."

Percy's blush deepened at her teasing. She raised an eyebrow, awaiting an explanation.

"Ludo Bagman," he replied with a nervous laugh. "Apparently, I wasn't enjoying myself enough to suit him."

Audrey nudged him with her elbow. "Not really one for parties, are yeh?" she teased, her light accent growing subtly thicker.

"Not particularly." Percy placed a hand on her forearm. "But I have to admit, this is the first time I've genuinely enjoyed myself in a very long while." He smiled down at her, and she smiled back.

Percy could have stared at her forever, the fairy lights softening the darkness around them and illuminating the already dazzling woman before him. Of course, reality had to intervene. Audrey's arm trembled beneath his palm, and it was too violent of a tremor to be brought on by the tenderness of the moment or his touch.

"Are you cold?" he mumbled, smile still gentle.

Audrey lowered her eyes, embarrassed. "Maybe a little."

The temperature _had _dropped significantly, but Percy had been immune to it due to the thick, woolen fabric of his dress robes. Poor Audrey was in nothing but a sleeveless silk gown.

"Let's go back inside," he offered, winding an arm around her and drawing her close to his side.

Audrey cuddled against him—an attempt to steal some of his body heat, he assumed. Another part of him whispered that it wasn't just his _warmth_ she wanted . . .

Percy brushed the thought away. After all, she hadn't exactly been willing to kiss him, had she?

They crossed the Entrance Hall in silence and made their way through the scarcely populated Great Hall. Those who remained were still dancing and laughing loudly, seemingly having the best possible time. Percy shook his head at the antics of a much more intoxicated Ludo Bagman, swaying and singing made up words to accompany whatever song happened to be playing.

"I see what you mean about that firewhisky," Audrey giggled, rising up onto her toes to whisper in his ear.

Percy grinned. "Told you so!"

Audrey turned her head to watch the Ministry Official as they continued across the Hall.

"It's sort of strange, having the Tournament going on in addition to everything else. But I suppose, if it _wasn't _going on, you wouldn't be here tonight, would you?"

Percy's eyes widened. "Well, no. No, I suppose I wouldn't."

Audrey beamed. "Well, in _that _case . . . I'm glad it is."

Percy's heart dropped into his stomach. "I . . . I'm glad, too," he muttered, not quite trusting his voice. Audrey giggled softly beside him. Desperate for a change of subject, Percy clung to the last thing she had said before she rendered him incapable of practically everything. "Erm . . . were . . . were you dissatisfied with the fact that the Tournament was happening before?"

"Oh, no! Not at all. I've found the whole thing terribly exciting! It's just, with all this extra activity going on, you would _think _the professors would be willing to lighten our workload a _little_." She playfully rolled her eyes. "I think I'll be able to survive 'til the end of next term, though. That is, if I can _finally _create a recipe for an antidote against poisons and brew it properly enough to suit Professor Snape. Which is _much _easier said than done."

"I'm sorry, I must have heard you incorrectly," Percy chuckled. "Recipes for antidotes? Seems a little . . . rudimentary. I mean, after all, that particular topic was covered in my . . . _hmm_. . . Third Year?"

Audrey looked up at him, nonplussed. "Well, Fourth," she corrected patiently, as though it was the most obvious fact and he was slow to catch on.

Percy's brow furrowed. "But . . . but what business would _you _have in a _Fourth __Year _Potions class?"

"Wow, Percy, it's flattering that you think so highly of my abilities," she breathed, once again revealing that beautiful smile. "But, to be frank, I'm rubbish at Potions. And it doesn't make much sense for me to have any sort of Advanced Placement in my other classes. I only need those offered in my year."

Percy gawked at her, his ears reddening as she spoke. "Your. _Year_?"

". . . That's right." Audrey's tone softened in response to his dramatic shift in demeanor. "I'm . . . in my Fourth Year at Hogwarts."

The weight of her words slammed into Percy's gut.

"No . . ." he muttered, shaking his head. "No. That's impossible. That would mean that you're only four—"

"Fourteen," Audrey finished for him. "Percy, what's wrong?" she whispered, her face full of concern. Percy focused on his breathing, which had grown labored. He stared at Audrey, a part of his mind refusing to believe what she'd said. How could she be _fourteen __years __old_? How could he have been so oblivious, so . . . _stupid_? How could he possibly have let himself fall for . . .?

Percy stormed away from her, out into the Entrance Hall. He could hear the clack of her high-heeled shoes as she struggled to follow him.

"Percy!" she called. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry! Please, just . . . tell me what's wrong!"

"You never told me you were _fourteen_!" he snarled, turning around to face her.

"I . . . I thought you _knew_!" Audrey whispered, blinking furiously. "And you never asked, so I thought you were fine with my age, regardless!"

A cold laugh burst from Percy's throat. "_Fine __with __it_?! I work for the _Ministry __of __Magic_! International Magical Cooperation! I am personal assistant to _Bartemius __Crouch __himself_! I can't be seen fraternizing with . . . a . . . a _child _like you!"

"A _child_?" Audrey's voice broke, and the sound dug into Percy's heart. "Is that really all I am to you? After tonight. . . . After _everything _. . . I thought . . ." She stared at him with tears streaming down her face. Percy felt his own throat tighten, but he kept his expression frozen in a hateful glare.

Gradually, anger drowned the despair in her eyes. "_Fine_," she spat. She took a step closer and forced something into Percy's hand. His stomach sank; it was his business card with the address he'd given her to reach him via Owl Post.

"Forget tonight," Audrey continued. "Forget you ever even met me!"

"Audrey, you're being unreasonable," Percy reprimanded. "Of course I'm not going to—"

"Just. GO."

Percy faltered. She hadn't screamed. She'd scarcely raised her voice. But the venom and heartbreak in those simple words filled him with dread. Regret stung his eyes, burned in his throat . . . but he was too proud. Too much had been said, and he wasn't about to back down. Percy drew a deep breath, never taking his eyes from hers, and snapped his dress robes into place.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss McGlasson," he said curtly. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Before either of them could say anything more, Percy turned and strode as quickly as possible toward the huge, oak front doors, never once looking back.

"Percy . . ." Audrey's voice echoed off the flagstones. He shut his eyes and continued walking. "_Percy_!" More desperate, tear-filled . . .

His head was killing him. Percy raised a hand to his temple, his address still balled up in his fist. He whipped out his wand and opened his hand.

"_Incendio_!" he growled. What was left of the paper burst into flame before disappearing altogether.

The world swam. He felt sick. He had to leave the Grounds. Immediately.

* * *

Percy staggered as his feet slammed onto the kitchen floor. He grasped the back of a dining room chair to steady himself, its legs screeching as it scraped against the hardwood. He quietly cursed when he heard stirring from the living room.

"Someone's home," his father's muffled voice remarked.

"Is that Percy?" his mother added, walking briskly toward the kitchen. Percy rushed to the staircase and took the steps two at a time. "Percy?" He heard his mother call after him. "How was the Ball, sweetheart?"

"I'll tell you in the morning," he barked, not bothering to slow his stride. "I'm tired. Going to bed!"

To further emphasize that the conversation was over, he slammed the door behind him the moment he reached his room. With a bellow of frustration, he gave his desk a swift kick, upsetting inkwells and piles of books, sending loose sheets of parchment all over the floor. He had hoped the outburst would make him feel better, but it only succeeded in making a mess and causing his toe to ache.

With another low growl, Percy slumped onto his bed and held his head in his hands. He dug his fingers into his slicked, styled hair, causing it to frizz back to its natural tangle of curls. Hot tears streamed down his face, but he didn't wipe them away. Chest aching, shoulders heaving, Percy cried as soundlessly as possible, completely sick at heart.

The creak of the floorboards and turn of the door latch brought him back to himself, and he sniffed noisily, hurriedly dabbing his eyes and nose with his sleeve. He tried to calm his staccato breathing as his mother cautiously opened the bedroom door.

"Percy, darling?" she said softly, a steaming mug of cocoa in her hand. "Is everything alright, sweetie?" She stopped short when she saw the tears glistening on her son's cheeks. She set the mug on his desk before hastening over to the bed.

Percy stared up at his mother. He swallowed and blinked. "H-Happy C-C-Christmas, Mm-Mum . . ."

His mother dropped onto the bed. "_Oh, __Percy_," she cooed, hugging him tightly as he lost his resolve and sobbed quietly into her blouse. For a moment, he was her little boy again, and he needed her to fix what was hurting him. His mother soothed and hushed, stroking Percy's curls, letting him cry rather than overwhelming him with questions.

"I've r-really screwed up, Mum," Percy mumbled miserably, once he'd quieted down a bit. "I've ruined ev-everything . . ."

"Oh, there there, now," his mother crooned, drawing back and wiping the tears from his cheek. "Whatever it is, we'll sort it all out in the morning." She smiled sadly as a few more tears slid down Percy's face and brushed them aside with her thumb. "In the meantime . . ." She rose and placed the warm mug into his hands. "Drink some of this, and then _straight __to __bed_. You'll feel better," she promised.

Percy held the mug loosely on his lap and nodded. He felt his mother's lips on his forehead.

"Happy Christmas, Percy, dear," she whispered. Percy listened to the groan of the floorboards and the soft click of the door closing behind her.

For what could have been minutes, (or quite possibly hours) Percy sat on his bed, staring fixedly at the floor, but seeing nothing. He eventually took a few sips of the cooled cocoa, but between the rich food he'd eaten, the firewhisky, and the overall stress of the evening, his stomach couldn't handle the sweetness. He summoned the wastebasket to his side in the nick of time.

Coughing and groaning, Percy set the mug on his bedside table and collapsed onto the mattress without bothering to remove his dress robes. He buried his face into the familiar softness of his pillow, squeezed his eyes shut, and begged for sleep to come and erase this whole horrid night from his memory. Somehow, despite his churning stomach and the sound of his own enraged voice echoing in his mind, he managed to fall into an uneasy sleep, visions of Audrey's tear-stained face haunting his dreams.


	2. Apology

CHAPTER TWO: APOLOGY

Percy woke with a dull ache at the base of his skull and an acrid taste in his mouth. Groaning, he hoisted himself upright and ran a hand through his tousled hair. The state of his bedroom made him grimace with disgust, and he emptied the waste bin and straightened the contents of his desk with a few waves of his wand. Clearing away the clutter somehow made him feel better, and he glanced down at his rumpled dress robes. It was time to put himself back in order, as well.

A scalding shower and a clean suit made all the difference. Percy sighed and stared at his reflection—not a hair or hem out of place—before sliding his wand into his pocket and making his way down the stairs.

His father was already in the kitchen, enjoying the enormous breakfast his mother had cooked as a continued celebration of the holidays. At the sound of Percy's footsteps, he looked up from his plate, and the jovial smile on his face minutely slipped.

"You're not going in today, are you?" he asked, referring to his son's smart attire and styled hair. "Not on the day after Christmas! You'll be the only one there." Percy noted the hint of disapproval lacing his father's playful tone.

"Exactly," he replied, eyeing the spread of food. "Perfect opportunity to get some work done." He picked up a piece of buttered toast and took a cautious bite, hoping it would help settle his stomach. He still felt a bit queasy. . . .

His mother turned to the pair of them, a frying pan in her hands and a pleading expression in her eyes. "Your father's right, dear," she said in a voice that sent a pang of guilt through him, even though he'd done nothing wrong. "Surely, whatever you have to do could wait just _one_ more day?"

Percy pursed his lips into a tight line, the longing on her face tugging at his heart. He strolled up to his mother and pecked her on the cheek.

"I won't be gone long," he promised. "I just . . . need an hour or so, at the most. There are a few things that I_ have_ to do." He smiled apologetically. "One hour, Mother. I promise."

His mother smiled, albeit a bit sadly. She placed a hand on the side of his face. "Alright then, love. I know how busy you are. Hurry back!" She hugged her son tightly before he turned on his heel, and Disapparated.

His father had been right: there wasn't a single soul to be found in the expansive Atrium. He nibbled the rest of his toast as he made his way to the office, relishing the absolute stillness and quiet. He hadn't lied to his mother. Not completely. He _had_ work to do. But the instant he sat down at his desk, he couldn't make himself begin any of it. All he could think about was Audrey. Her laugh, her smile, the devastation in her eyes . . .

Percy groaned and buried his face in his hands. He'd behaved abhorrently. _Why_, he kept asking himself. _Why_ had he treated her like that, said those horrible things to her? But deep down, he knew it was pure selfishness that had urged him to lash out. He'd been told time and again that his intense personality was off-putting to most, but this had never bothered him. Relationships, of any variety, were not a priority—in fact, solitude was much more efficient. For years, he'd made due with mere acquaintances—a few of them quite amiable—and felt perfectly fulfilled.

Penny had been the first exception.

Audrey—he had thought—was meant to be another. He'd taken a chance, lowered his every defense . . .

But her age barred her from him, and the disappointment had been overwhelming.

"So you yell at her and break her heart," he grumbled. "_Brilliant_, Percy. Bloody brilliant."

He heaved a sigh, consumed by his thoughts. His nausea returned with a vengeance (as it always did in times of extreme stress), and only then did he realize that feeling sorry for himself would do nothing to repair the damage he had caused.

With a quivering hand, Percy took up a quill and set to work writing a letter to Audrey. The last thing she wanted, he was sure, was to hear from him. But he had to apologize for the way he'd acted. He had to fix this. Or, at least try. She deserved so much better than this. Much better than _him_.

He reread the letter countless times, rewording and editing, scratching out whole paragraphs at a time. When he finally had an acceptable draft, he tucked it into an envelope and sealed it shut. Fearfully, he stared down at the parchment between his hands, as if waiting for it to explode. When it did not, and he had plucked up enough courage to send it on its way, he awoke the screech owl perched on his desk, stroking its feathered head.

"Hermes," he cooed, clicking his tongue. The owl lazily opened one eye. Percy smiled and continued to stroke the soft down between the tufts on Hermes's head. He ruffled his feathers and turned to Percy with a look that was far from enthusiastic.

"I'm sorry, boy," Percy muttered, holding out the letter. "But this has to be sent to Hogwarts, straight away."

Hermes gave a disgruntled hoot and gently nipped Percy's finger.

"I _said_ I was sorry."

After fixing his master with a long stare, Hermes gingerly took the letter in his beak. He beat his wings and soared into the air, sweeping once around the office before diving through the chute in the floor, designed specifically for owl traffic between levels.

The small clock on his desk chimed the hour. With a sigh, Percy gathered his things and prepared to leave.

He had a promise to keep.

* * *

Audrey listened to the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors on both sides of the table, joking and laughing as they tucked into yet another delicious holiday feast. She had no desire to join in. What she really wanted was to escape back to the Common Room, but there was obviously no chance of that. Her stomach turned as she stared moodily down at the vast assortment of food. She sighed. Even her appetite was gone.

The weight of Rhose's stare was enough to stir her from her despondent musing. She turned to her best friend, who gave her a sympathetic smile.

"You _sure_ you don't want some of this?" Rhose coaxed, gesturing to the nearly overflowing platters before them.

Audrey shook her head. "Thanks, but . . . I'm not hungry."

"Ah, but you will be!" George teased, nudging her with his elbow. "Come midnight, you'll be lying in your four-poster, _starving_! Wasting away to nothing! And you'll think to yourself, 'Why, _why_ didn't I listen to George and Rhose?'"

A smile crept slowly onto Audrey's face. She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to deliver a snarky retort, but she was distracted by the sound of flapping wings. A few more students raised their heads with mild interest. Owls swooping into the Great Hall with a parcel or letter were a regular occurrence, but it was odd that one should appear so late in the evening.

The screech owl soared just above the students with an elegant precision, its yellow eyes glinting in the candlelight. As it neared Audrey and her friends, the owl dropped a letter onto her empty plate. That was strange. . . . Who would be writing to her, that the owl would deliver the message halfway through supper?

George sighed. "Hermes," he grumbled, watching the owl circle above their heads.

Audrey glanced at him, confused, and studied the envelope. Her heart leapt. She recognized the handwriting. So did George.

"Don't open it, Audrey," he advised with a shake of his head. "He was a proper git towards you at the Ball, and he doesn't deserve the time of day from you."

"George . . . he's . . . he's your brother," Audrey admonished, despite herself.

"And _you're_ my friend," George replied, leaning closer. "Besides, I like you better." Audrey tried to smile at his attempt to cheer her up. "Honestly, Audrey," he gently added. "Don't open it. He's the one who should be punished. Not you."

Audrey wanted to ask him what he meant, but decided against it. She gripped the letter tightly, her hands trembling beneath the table.

Later, after dinner and the evening ritual of socializing in the Common Room, Audrey drew back the curtains of her four-poster and slipped out of bed. The floor was frigid under her bare feet as she put on her bathrobe and pulled the letter from beneath her pillow. Treading softly and slowly, so as not to wake her sleeping Housemates, Audrey crawled through the round hole in the wall and climbed back into the Common Room.

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow about the circular room. The portrait of Helga Hufflepuff snored daintily from her frame above the mantle, and even a few of the hanging plants brought in by Professor Sprout seemed to sigh as they swayed their leafy tendrils. Audrey plopped down into one of the squishy, overstuffed armchairs and studied Percy's letter by the light of the flames.

For one horrible second, she felt compelled to throw it into the fireplace. She was, after all, still upset by his anger and abandonment at the end of the Yule Ball. Everything had been going so perfectly (like something out of one of her daydreams) before Percy had transformed into a condescending stranger.

Maybe George was right. Why _should_ she read whatever he had to say? She didn't want to hear from him! She wanted her stupid heart to stop telling her how much it longed for him. Her life would have been so much simpler and so much better if he had never entered it. . . .

She resisted the destructive urge, clutching the parchment to her chest. Try as she might to convince herself that her hateful thoughts were true, she knew—without a hint of doubt—that every one of them was a lie—a defense mechanism to prevent herself from getting hurt again.

Audrey sighed. She'd been hopelessly taken with Percy the moment she'd glimpsed him at her first Hogwarts Quidditch match, redirecting some students who were too busy socializing to move forward so those around them could be seated. Even though he'd hardly noticed her existence until the Ball, she had always sensed that behind the stern expressions and the bossy attitude was a sweet person. He'd proven that the minute he'd asked her to dance. It was all an elaborate mask . . . a defense mechanism to prevent himself from getting hurt. . . .

With trembling fingers and a racing heart, Audrey broke the seal and drew the letter from the envelope. Percy's neat handwriting covered the page of parchment.

_ Dear Audrey,_

_ I hope this letter finds you well. As you know, I have quite the proclivity for long, rambling monologues, so I'll attempt to make this message brief:_

_ I wanted to sincerely apologize for my behavior last night at the Yule Ball. What I said and did was rude and inexcusable, but if you can find it in yourself to do so, I humbly ask you to forgive me. While your age means nothing to me, as an employee of the Ministry, my actions would be considered . . . questionable, at best, if our interactions were to be made known. Nevertheless, this does not justify my behavior, and again, I wish only to tell you that I am sorry. I cannot stress this enough. I am, truly, sorry._

_ I wish you all the best in the New Year, and Happy Holidays._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Percy_

_ Percy Weasley_

_ International Magical Cooperation_

_ Ministry of Magic_

_ P.S. I understand why you gave this back to me. But if you should desire my professional assistance, my offer still stands._

At the very bottom of the letter was the address he'd conjured on the back of his business card.

Audrey lowered the parchment onto her lap and stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace. She sighed again, feeling completely lost. On the one hand, she was so relieved to have heard from him, and he had apologized, no less! And on the other . . .

_ He doesn't deserve the time of day from you._

Audrey curled into a tiny ball, the letter still in her hand. She lifted it to her eyes and read it again, and once more after that. It was impossible to say how long she sat in the Common Room, figuring out what to do. At long last, she bolted upright and sneaked back to the dormitory. Without making a sound, she retrieved her schoolbag and sat at one of the honey-colored tables in the Common Room, leaves of parchment before her and a bottle of ink and quill at hand.

Having given her words a great deal of thought, Audrey touched the nib of her quill to the page and, against her better judgment (and George's, and perhaps Rhose's as well), composed a concise reply to Percy's letter.

The next morning, she rose startlingly early and, with Lyra perched on her arm, arrived at the Great Hall before most of her friends and classmates. As a thank you, Audrey offered Lyra a few pieces of bacon, which she greedily gobbled down, nearly nipping the tips of Audrey's fingers in the process. Having eaten her fill, she hooted contentedly, and let Audrey fasten the roll of parchment to her leg.

"Take this to Percy Weasley at the Ministry of Magic," Audrey whispered, stroking Lyra's silky head. "International Magical Cooperation Office."

Lyra tilted her head so Audrey could tickle her chin. She opened her eyes and let out her characteristic screech. Audrey smiled.

"Thank you, Lyra. Be safe."

The barn owl spread her wings and flew off toward the ceiling—a flash of white against the enchanted sky above—before disappearing from sight.

* * *

"Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?" Percy asked, pen poised above the notebook he carried at all times. As this was the first he'd seen of his employer in several weeks, the last thing he wanted was to appear anything short of efficient.

"What?" Mr. Crouch mumbled absentmindedly. "Oh . . . no, no, that will be all, Weatherby."

"Yes, sir." Percy snapped the notebook closed and worriedly studied Mr. Crouch's ashen face. "Forgive me, sir, perhaps it's none of my business, but are you feeling alright? Would you like some tea?"

Mr. Crouch muttered something indiscernible, which Percy interpreted as an affirmation.

"Absolutely, sir. Right away." He walked briskly across the office and busied himself with the kettle.

As the water came to a boil, he opened the ornate box he kept stocked with a vast selection of Mr. Crouch's favorite herbal teas. To his dismay, it was empty. How could he have neglected to notice that the box needed refilling? Luckily, he kept a few extra packets of tea at his desk.

He excused himself with the promise of a prompt return (Mr. Crouch didn't move or acknowledge him), and as he rummaged through the proper drawer, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Percy looked up.

A silvery owl was sitting on his desk. His eyes widened. She was a beautiful creature, and he had the inexplicable urge to stroke her feathers. He reached out a tentative hand towards her, but she opened her beak and emitted a loud, grating screech that startled him out of his wits. He jumped and looked fretfully around, worried that he had disturbed his colleagues. No one was paying him any attention.

Percy turned back to the demonic-sounding bird on his desk and was surprised to see her holding out her foot so he could easily remove the letter tied to her leg. He pried the parchment free, the owl pleasantly watching him. Eying her warily, he unrolled the letter and scanned its contents.

_ Dear Percy,_

_ Thank you for your letter, and your apology, but I'm still hurt by what happened at the end of that night. I hope you can understand why I might need some time._

_ I do appreciate your offer to serve as a professional contact, and I may take advantage of your expertise in the future. But for now, I have to ask that you not write to me again, at least for a while. I think it would be in both our best interests, and as I said before, I just need a little time._

_ Wishing you happiness and success,_

_ Audrey_

_Audrey_. It was from Audrey.

She'd actually read his letter and taken the time to reply! It was more than he'd expected or, quite frankly, deserved. And he would do what she'd asked. If she didn't want him to write, he wouldn't pen a word. Well, except there was still one last message to write.

Percy cleared aside what little clutter had accumulated on his desk and snatched up a quill and leaf of parchment. In seconds, he had a letter ready to send back to her.

_ Audrey,_

_ I do understand. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart._

_ I fully intend to honor your request concerning our correspondence (or lack thereof). I'm writing you now only to confirm that I received your previous letter, and that I respect your wishes entirely._

_ Warmest regards,_

_ Percy_

Very cautiously, he tied the letter to the barn owl's leg, and she didn't object.

"Thank you," Percy told her, smiling. "I very much appreciate this."

The owl replied with another deafening shriek that sent a shiver down Percy's spine. Scattering documents across the desk and onto the floor, she flapped her wings and lifted clumsily into the air. Once she had her bearings, she soared above his head, toward the closest chute, effortlessly dodging other people in the office and stacks of parchment piled nearly to the ceiling. Percy watched her go, his thoughts only of Audrey.

"WEATHERBY!"

Percy started and closed the desk drawer with a bang. "Mr. Crouch!" he stammered. "I'm so sorry, sir. The tea hasn't even been steeped. I was retrieving some more for your private stores, but something . . . _urgent_ caught my attention and I got a bit distracted. I was on my way back, though, I assure you. I apologize, sir, it won't happen again . . ."

"Never mind that," Mr. Crouch barked, looking ill and frail, but somehow more foreboding than ever. "I have a job for you, Weatherby."


	3. The Second Task

CHAPTER THREE: THE SECOND TASK

There wasn't much time after the Yule Ball to dwell on Percy. After the brief reply he'd sent back with Lyra, he'd kept his word, and Audrey had not heard from him. For this, she was particularly grateful, as the mountainous piles of homework her professors had thrust upon her and the other students devoured most of her time.

As January trickled into February, the anticipation for the Second Task crackled through the air. Students everywhere discussed their speculations in excited whispers between classes, at mealtimes, and any chance they received. It was rumored, among the Hufflepuffs, that Cedric had solved the riddle of the golden dragon egg months ago, and there was no question he would reign supreme during the next Task.

The excitement was contagious. Audrey and Rhose became just as engrossed as everyone else, discussing their predictions at length with their follow Hufflepuffs and playfully baiting Fred and George that Gryffindor's Champion had no chance against theirs.

One evening, after supper, they even managed to create a huge banner to show their support for both Cedric and Harry. After all, a win for Hogwarts was all that mattered, even though, deep down, each House secretly cheered on their own respective Champion. Audrey did the illustrating, and finally, after hours of practicing, she managed to Charm the banner to change from canary yellow with a noble-looking black badger and the word "Diggory" spelled beneath it, to a rich scarlet with a regal gold lion, great maw opened in a fierce roar, the word "Potter" in place of Cedric's name.

It was announced at breakfast, on the morning of the Second Task, that all the spectators should make their way to the edge of the Black Lake no later than nine-twenty. Rhose and Audrey ate quickly and returned back to their dormitory to bundle up in warm cloaks and winter accessories. Together, they hoisted the homemade banner out of the Common Room, and met Fred and George in the Entrance Hall.

All four trouped down to the stands at the Lake's shoreline, the twins occasionally shouting out to passing students, urging them to place their bets on the winning Champion. They situated themselves about halfway up in the stands, nestled between a gaggle of cheering Hufflepuffs and a large collection of Gryffindors, who were making a fair fuss of their own. Despite the jostling crowd, Audrey and George managed to secure a seat on either side of Rhose.

"Is Brynn going to sit with us?" Audrey asked, casting her eyes about for Rhose's younger sister.

"Nah. She's with her _own_ friends, apparently," Rhose explained with a flippant wave toward a cluster of Ravenclaws. "The nerve! It's almost like she has her own life, or something!"

Audrey glanced down at their enormous, animated banner. "Or she's embarrassed to be seen with us," she giggled.

"Fat chance of that!" Fred scoffed, falling heavily onto the bench and settling in on George's other side.

"Rhose! Audrey!"

Both girls turned around to see their best friend, Natalie, beaming down at them. She was just a few rows up, waving excitedly beside the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan. Since the Yule Ball, the two of them had been as inseparable as a couple from two different Houses could be—it was adorably nauseating. Rhose threw her arm in the air, grinning, and Audrey did the same after a furtive glance at the surrounding Hufflepuffs.

Natalie's greeting hadn't seemed to have attracted Eustace's attention. Audrey had sat her cousin down before the Task, and had explained that she'd wanted him to spend some time with the other First Years, leaving her some "alone time" with her own friends. He'd agreed readily enough, but there was just no telling with that boy. Any indication that his cousin was nearby, and he could strike at a moment's notice. As an added precaution, Audrey ducked out of sight, taking advantage of Rhose's voluminous hair.

"What d'you reckon they're gonna haf'ta do?" Fred asked, jerking his chin toward the Lake.

"Something aquatic, by the look of it," Rhose unhelpfully suggested, which brought a huge grin to George's face. All four of them stared at the Black Lake. The sun glistened off the expanse of dark water, but it somehow managed to look just as deep and menacing as ever. The Champions were already stationed near the water's edge, not far from the table that had been set up for the judges. Or . . . _nearly_ all of the Champions . . .

"Where's Harry?" Fred wondered aloud, unheard by the others. George was already on his feet, bellowing the School Song, and Rhose and Audrey were brandishing their banner and squealing themselves hoarse. Over the screams of her fellow Hufflepuffs, Audrey caught snippets of other cheers and chants in languages she didn't understand. The stands rumbled and pulsed with the pounding of fists, the stamping of countless feet.

Grinning, Cedric waved at the roaring throng, somehow the epitome of humility despite his evident delight at the swelling attention and praise. Fleur Delacour met the cacophony with a beaming smile and a bow of her neck, as regal as any queen. Viktor Krum, dressed in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks, raised his muscled arms, conducting the crowd—and ladies, in particular—into even more of a frenzy.

Rhose cupped her hands on either side of her mouth. "GO CEDRIC! YOU CAN DO IT!"

Audrey burst into laughter and joined in, yelling every encouraging thing that came to mind as loudly as possible. It really was incredible—of all the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, before the confusion and unexpected selection of a fourth Champion, the Goblet of Fire had chosen a Hufflepuff to represent the entire school. Despite the bravery, ambition, and intelligence the other students had to offer, it seemed kindness, dedication, and hard work were most valued.

They were going to win. There was absolutely no question about it. Cedric was going to win this entire Tournament!

A magically amplified voice shook the stands' foundations and echoed across the eerily still water.

"Welcome! Welcome, welcome, one and all, to the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament!"

Ludo Bagman's words were drowned in a surge of applause. "Last night," he continued. "Something was stolen from each of our Champions—a treasure, of sorts—and must now be retrieved from the bottom of the Black Lake. The winning Champion need only be the first to resurface with their stolen treasure. Simple enough . . . except for this . . ." Bagman's tone darkened. "They will have but _one hour_ to do so, and one hour only."

A hush settled over the crowd. George leaned over to mutter in Fred's ear. "Got quite the knack for showmanship, dunnee?"

Fred snickered.

"The Task shall begin momentarily. We are waiting only for our fourth and final—Ah!" Bagman lowered the wand tip from his throat and turned to the small, skinny figure sprinting toward the judge's table, feet pounding against the sand, jet hair flying in all directions. Harry Potter stumbled to a halt next to the other Champions and bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. A murmur of laughter followed in his wake.

"Leave it to Harry to be fashionably late." Rhose snorted. She leaned in and elbowed her boyfriend. "Ugh. He's _such_ a Gryffindor."

"'ey, watch it!" Fred teased, reaching across George and giving her shoulder a shove. Rhose's exaggerated reaction caused her to collide with Audrey, simultaneously jostling a few unsuspecting Hufflepuffs beside her.

"Now that our Champions are ready," Bagman resumed once Harry had had a moment to compose himself. "We will begin the Second Task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely one hour to recover what was taken from them. On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . three!"

The whistle's tinny screech was swallowed in thunderous applause. Every spectator in the stands was on their feet, screaming, cheering, positively berserk with excitement.

Rhose and Audrey watched as Cedric cast an elaborate charm, his wrist and wand twirling in tandem. A silvery film flowed sluggishly from the wand's tip, hovering in midair as it formed, growing larger and larger at Cedric's behest. When he seemed satisfied with its size, he flicked the translucent orb from his wand, and it enveloped his entire head from the neck, up.

"A Bubble Head Charm!" Audrey breathed, to no one in particular. Theoretically, if properly cast, the charm would surround Cedric in a bubble of clean air, leaving him free to breathe indefinitely, no matter his surroundings. She'd read all about them, of course, but she'd never seen one cast before. . . . Without wasting another second, Cedric dove into the Black Lake and vanished from sight. Strangely enough, the Bubble Head Charm didn't render him buoyant in the water . . .

"Fascinating!" Audrey whispered.

With Hufflepuff's Champion already on his way to victory, she cast her eyes toward the other competitors. She was just in time to witness Fleur Delacour's porcelain feet slip beneath the surface, and then shifted her attention over to Durmstrang's Champion.

"Merlin's beard!" Audrey squeaked, clenching Rhose's arm and squeezing too tightly. "What in Morgana's name is happening to Viktor Krum?"

The handsome profile of a moment ago was unnaturally elongated, his skin pewter and glistening. White daggers grew in his mouth where there had once been human teeth. One dead black eye stared unblinkingly at the crowd.

Rhose grimaced and leaned against her best friend. "Looks like some sort of Transfiguration gone wrong . . ."

"Yea," George chimed in, nodding. He pointed to Fred with his thumb, then himself. "We just started learning Human Transfiguration this year. Really tricky stuff! Quite advanced. My hat's off to him for making an effort . . ."

The small party sat still, equal parts riveted and unsettled by the physical change taking place in the Durmstrang Champion. After what seemed like ages, Krum stood tall at the Lake's edge, his head completely replaced by that of a great white shark. The rest of his body had not been altered, but he did not return once he'd slipped into the dark water.

"Whatever works!" George laughed, still on his feet and clapping madly.

"Erm . . . what exactly is Harry doing?" Rhose asked, squinting at Gryffindor's struggling Champion.

No one had an answer.

He had waded into the water up to his waist, black robes billowing in the subtle ebb and flow of the waves. A good majority of the spectators were pointing and laughing. Harry merely stood in place, his shoulders heaving as though he might be sick. Finally, his tangled mess of black hair disappeared beneath the surface of the Lake, and, like all the Champions before him, he did not reemerge.

"Huh. Wonder what that was all about," George mused once the cheering and applause died down, replaced by the low roar of animated conversation and the shifting of countless bodies returning to their seats.

"Who knows?" Fred replied with a shrug. "Imagine we'll find out once the Task's over."

"Yea, but in the meantime, it's gonna be totally awesome! Wonder what they'll have to face down there? There's our good friend the Giant Squid, of course, we know that . . ." George was beaming. "But what else to do think is down there?"

"_Hmm_, a Kelpie, perhaps? Grindylows? _Oh_ . . . merpeople, maybe! And if that's the case, probably a hippocampus or two! I've read that a breed was domesticated off the shores of Scotland!" Audrey offered, mentally leafing through her copy of _Fantastic Beasts And Where to Find Them_. "And . . ." She leaned in, an excited gleam in her hazel eyes. "If there's a Giant Squid down there . . . who's to say there isn't a Water Dragon, too?"

"You mean, like a sea serpent?" Rhose swore in her native Welsh. "Don't those things grow to about a hundred feet long? What kind of bloody competition do you think this is, dear?!"

"That's just it!" Fred cut in, grinning as broadly as his brother. "It's the Triwizard Tournament! ANYTHING can happen! Literally ANYTHING!"

"Exactly! See what I mean?" George exclaimed. "This is gonna be AWESOME!"

"YEAH!"

The four friends stared at the Black Lake's waters, giddy with anticipation for the daring adventure about to unfold before them . . .

Except . . .

The water remained undisturbed. The crisp winter wind scarcely ruffled the glass surface.

The gang glanced at one another.

"Wait. . . . So . . . are we just going to sit and stare at the Lake for an hour, then?" Rhose's question, once again, went unanswered.

"Well!" Fred threw up his hands. "THAT was anti-climactic."

"Aw, c'mon," George urged in an attempt to salvage his former spiel. "It can't be ALL bad . . ."

"What? That this Task was very poorly thought through?" Fred grumbled, arching an eyebrow.

"Well . . . we'll just have to come up with a different way to pass the time, is all . . ."

"And how do you propose we do that, Georgie?"

Rhose and Audrey shared a knowing smile while the twins bickered beside them. A gust of wind blew through the stands and the girls worked together to hoist the Diggory/Potter banner over their shoulders for some additional warmth. After all, they wouldn't need it until the Champions resurfaced.

Many of the other students had come to the same conclusion regarding the lack of spectacle during this Task, and while they continued to talk amongst themselves, the constant noise reduced to a low hum.

Audrey snuggled closer to her best friend and—tugging the banner tightly around her—cast her gaze throughout the stands and back toward the water's edge.

All five judges were once again seated at their golden-draped table, staring intently at the expanse of water before them. Each Wizarding School was represented—Durmstrang's Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff on the far left, Beaubaton's Madame Maxime at his side, followed by Professor Dumbledore, his long silver hair luminous, even with such a dull, cloud-filled sky overhead. Ludo Bagman was reclined comfortable beside him, and at the end, on the far right . . .

"Oooh, I know what _Audrey_ is going to keep an eye on so as not to get bored," Fred cooed. "_Yoo hoo,_ Brother Mine! Percy Darling! Over heeeee—OW! What?! What was that for?"

George dug his elbow further into his brother's ribs, casting a nervous glance in Audrey's direction.

She refused to meet his eye, keeping her attention fixed on the head of red hair she and Fred had simultaneously recognized.

"What's_ he_ doing here?" she heard Rhose sneer. Her face burned.

"I dunno . . ." George mumbled. "Filling in for Mr. Crouch again, I suspect . . ."

"Wait, I don't understand," Fred butt in, his voice particularly loud compared to the others' hushed tones. "I thought the two of them were sweet on each oth—" His words ended in another grunt of pain as his twin's elbow once again found its mark. "Would you _stop_ doing that?"

George shushed his brother with a whispered explanation that Audrey deliberately tuned out; she wasn't in any humor to relive the story all over again. Rhose immediately engaged her in an animated conversation before Percy could ruin her Second Task experience . . . uneventful, though it was. And while Audrey was grateful for her best friend's thoughtfulness, she'd already decided that she would not let Percy Weasley spoil any more of this Tournament.

Upon realizing that their friend seemed to be alright after all, the twins joined the girls' conversation, and soon the four of them were back to joking and laughing and acting their all-around obnoxiously entertaining selves. Every so often, someone in the crowd would shout out, claiming to have seen something stir beneath the water, followed by a several pointing fingers. Each time, the gang fell still and stared at the black water, only to be disappointed when nothing emerged.

As their hour of waiting drew closer to its end, the wind picked up again, doing nothing to alleviate their growing impatience. George hugged his arms and shifted on the bench. "Audrey, do you know what you should do?" He flashed her that irresistible grin that only made an appearance when he wanted something. He didn't wait for her to guess. "Trade me spots."

"What? Why?" Her objections were cut short as George stepped in front of Rhose and wedged his tall, slender body between the two girls. With an exaggerated, contented sigh, he wound an arm around Rhose, pressed his lips to her mouth, and snagged the banner from Audrey's shoulders, (cocooning himself and Rhose together) leaving her uncomfortably squished and shivering.

Well, then.

"_Fine_," Audrey huffed, standing and awkwardly stepping over them both to George's vacated seat. She plopped down, scowling, and crossed her arms. "Even though it's basically MY banner," she grumbled, glaring at her two friends.

"I don't think they can hear you," a knowing voice chuckled near her ear. Sighing, Audrey turned to Fred, who was watching his brother and looking amused. When she looked back at Rhose and George, they were snogging with such intensity that she doubted either of them would be conscience of anything for awhile . . .

"Yeah, you're probably right . . ." With another sigh, Audrey turned her attention to the Black Lake's polished surface, the Champions somewhere in its depths. She didn't envy them—she couldn't fathom how icy that water must be. . . . A violent shudder overtook her body.

"Alright, then?" Fred asked.

Audrey nodded. "Fine." She offered a weak smile. "Cold."

"Same. Why don't we help each other with that, eh?"

Before she could protest, Fred scooted closer and draped a long arm around her shoulders. The gesture was innocent and brotherly, and Audrey felt a wave of gratitude wash over her, along with Fred's body heat.

"Thank you," she muttered through a grin. Fred winked.

"Don't mention it. You and I have to fend for ourselves now, don't we?" He jerked his chin toward his lovesick brother and her smitten best friend. Audrey giggled.

"I guess so."

Against their best interests, both of them watched George and Rhose's romantic antics for a little while longer. For some disturbing reason, it was very difficult to look away. . . . Luckily, Fred loudly cleared his throat, distracting her.

"Hey, sorry about earlier. Teasing you about Percy, I mean. I didn't mean to be an arse."

The sincerity in his warm brown eyes broadened her smile. "It's alright," she reassured. "You didn't know . . ."

"I didn't!" Fred leapt at the chance to further defend himself. "From what I saw at the Ball, I thought you and Perce would end up together."

Audrey lowered her gaze; her stomach felt sick. "I thought so, too . . ." she confessed, voice so soft, Fred leaned in to properly hear. "But . . . I guess I was wrong."

"You don't believe that."

Audrey's eyes snapped back to his face. "Excuse me?"

Fred smirked.

"You don't. If you did, you wouldn't still be thinking about him."

"It's inevitable, Fred, he's sitting right down there!" A playful grin curled her lips.

"Naaaah, don't play stupid." Fred lifted his eyebrows. "You know good and well that's not what I mean."

She did.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. Despite her best efforts, she still thought about that night, about Percy . . . in the quiet moments, when the humdrum slowed down, at the corners of conversation and silence. She'd thought she'd done a relatively decent job keeping these moments to a minimum, but seeing him here, today, had undone every ounce of her hard work. And Fred knew that—could see it so clearly.

Audrey shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. "I'm . . . I'm better off without him . . ." she mumbled, each word setting her face ablaze.

"Is that what YOU think, or what my dearest brother over there thinks?" Fred watched as her face grew redder. "Exactly." He grinned. "Noble and protective as his intentions are, what Georgie seems to have forgotten is that Perce isn't a bad guy. He_ is_ our brother, after all. He means well, in his way. Merlin only knows what YOU see in him, but for all his arrogance and git-dom, he has a good heart underneath it all. WAY down, underneath it all. . . ."

He said all of this with a twinkle is his eyes that sent Audrey into a fit of giggles.

"So, what are you saying?" she finally managed to ask. "That I should give Percy a second chance?"

"What I'm _saying_ . . ." Fred tightened his hold on her. "Is that it's none of my business. Or George's, or Rhose's. What you do next is between you and Percy. And if you never want to speak to him again, great! At least YOU were the one to make that choice."

Audrey stared at Fred, her eyes impossibly wide, slowly digesting his words. She'd never realized that she'd been so concerned with everyone else's best intentions for her that she'd never once stopped to consider if what they thought really _was_ what was best. She often needed someone to keep her grounded; she was a dreamer, a romantic . . .

But she had a say.

The realizations must have dawned on her face because a huge grin spread across Fred's lips.

"Yea, a lot more than just a pretty face!" he told her, pointing to himself and sending her into another peal of laughter. "Now me, personally, I wouldn't wish Percy on anyone, but. . . . Looking at you right now . . ." His grin grew wider. "Well, who am I to interfere with that, eh? . . . THESE two, on the other hand . . . OI!" Audrey jumped, still beaming, as Fred yelled at Rhose and George. "YOU TWO! We want attention!"

Just as the other two ended their embrace—albeit, begrudgingly, grumbling at Fred all the while—several gasps and delighted screams rose from the throng. A huge bubble rushed to the surface of the Lake and burst. Another followed. Then a whole stream gurgled upward, as though the minuscule patch of water had come to a boil. Students everywhere were instantly on their feet, scrambling in the stands and craning forward to catch a glimpse or whoever—or whatever—was causing the disturbance.

The water rippled, and then exploded as two soaking figures surfaced. Despite the water weighing down her ink-dark hair, the girl was very pretty and looked very much like Cho Chang, a well-liked Ravenclaw and the girl lucky enough to have been on Cedric's arm the night of the Yule Ball. . . . Which could only mean . . .

Cedric coughed up a mouthful of water and, once he had his bearings, wrapped an arm around Cho and helped steer her toward the shore. All of the judges, save for Karkaroff, had leapt to their feet and were waiting to hoist both Champion and hostage from the frozen water. Rhose and Audrey went wild, screaming shrilly enough to shatter the eardrums of anyone in close proximity.

"CEDRIC! OH MY GOD, IT'S CEDRIC! HE DID IT!"

"CEDRIIIIIIIIIIIIC! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! GO CEDRIIIIIIIIIIIIC! W-WAIT!" Audrey gripped Rhose's shoulders and spun her around, their faces mere inches apart. "RHOSE, DOES THIS MEAN WE WON? CEDRIC FINISHED FIRST! DOES THAT MEAN WE WON?!"

* * *

"Geroff me, Percy! I'm alright!"

Ron shook the sopping hair from his eyes and struggled to break free of his older brother's grip, which, of course, only encouraged Percy to tighten his hold.

"Ha! Not likely, you're absolutely freezing! You're going to catch your death out here. . . . Now stop squirming . . ."

The minutes exceeding the one-hour time limit had ticked by so slowly.

Percy's blood had gone as cold as the waters of the Black Lake as he'd stood at its edge, watching . . . waiting. . . . He had assured their mother that Ron would be perfectly safe, that he would, at all times, be in Albus Dumbledore's care. No harm would befall him. . . .

The Diggory boy had appeared seconds after the allotted hour ended, and the other two Champions had followed soon after. Still, his brother did not rise to the surface.

_Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever._

Percy's stomach lurched.

This was all his fault.

His morbid mind drafted the letter home. . . .

Finally, after a lifetime, three figures emerged from the water's depths. Frigid air pierced Percy's lungs, and without another moment's hesitation, he'd splashed into the freezing water, limbs trembling, his long robes weighing him down.

The Headmaster's reassurances be damned.

Never. Again.

Percy drew Ron even closer, his entire body shaking . . . or, was Percy the one shivering? Already, the damp cold had seeped into his skin—made all the worse by the biting wind—and he was only soaked from the waist, down. Ron had been submerged for hours. . . .

"A conference before we give the marks, I think." The calm voice drew Percy's attention from his still struggling brother, back to the Lake's shore, where Professor Dumbledore stood tall, his light blue eyes glinting behind his spectacles. Percy raised his brows, taking in the thrashing tails of the merpeople that had accompanied Ron and the others back to the water's edge—their screeching cries subdued by the wind and the roar of the crowd—before meeting the Headmaster's patient gaze.

Percy opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He turned back to the hands he'd left on Ron's shoulders, panic jolting his heart as his brother was pried from them. He instinctively clutched at Ron's robes, but the assailant was only Madame Pomfrey, tutting and shooing him away. Finally convinced that his little brother was not in any more danger, Percy summoned up what remained of his frayed composure and turned toward the huddle of his fellow Triwizard judges.

Dumbledore beamed when he joined them. "As I was saying, Merchieftainess Murcus has informed me that Mr. Potter was, in fact, the first Champion to reach the hostages, and would most likely have been the first to return, had he not been so determined to see all four stolen persons returned safely to the surface."

Percy's stupefied expression was mirrored on the faces of his colleagues. Save one. Karkaroff snorted.

"Vee are going to take someone else's vord on the matter when vee vere not there to vitness it for ourselves? How can vee know these people can be trusted vith the truth, Albus?"

"See here, old sport!" Ludo Bagman's jovial words did little to hide his indignant tone. "The Merchieftainess and all her people are highly reputable witnesses! To question their integrity is an insult of the highest caliber!"

"If zey are to be believed, Monsieur Potter saved one of my students when it was not 'is responsibility to do so." Madame Maxime raised herself to her full (considerable) height. "If zat does not demonstrate a great deal of moral fiber, I do not know what does!"

"Here, here! Potter would have finished first, but the drive to compete was quashed by the desire to save his friends! All in favor of granting Potter full marks?"

"_Full marks_?" Karkaroff spat. Bagman scowled. "He finished LAST, and you see fit to grant him FULL MARKS? Albus this is absurd!"

"Mr. Weasley." Professor Dumbledore's silken words seemed to mollify the group's obvious tension. "What is your opinion on the matter?"

Percy felt his ears grow hot as each pair of eyes turned to him. He swallowed. Still badly ruffled by what had happened to Ron, not to mention mildly furious with both Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Crouch, (the former for allowing this asinine Task to occur, the latter for leaving him no choice but to watch it unfold) he was surprised to find he _did_ have an opinion on the matter.

"W-well, I think it is imperative to take into account that Mr. Potter returned far outside the time limit we set to complete the Task." Karkaroff gave a smug grin. "But," Percy continued. "Only three of the four Champions followed the overall objective and returned with a hostage. If what the Merchieftainess says is—in fact—true, then I think that such noble behavior merits at least third or second place."

The Durmstrang Headmaster rounded on him, fury blazing in his eyes, but whatever vile words he might have aimed at the young Ministry Worker were veiled by those of Professor Dumbledore.

"Well, I believe we now have enough sound reasoning to come to a conclusion."

The debate continued for a considerable amount of time, all five judges awarding and retracting points for each Champion as they saw fit. When they had come to a consensus at long last, Ludo Bagman stepped away from their tiny group, raised his wand to his throat, and lifted the other arm to draw the attention of the raucous crowd awaiting their verdict.

The stands fell silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision." Bagman's voice boomed in the still air. "Merchieftainess Murcus has told us what happened at the bottom of the Lake, and we have decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the Champions, as follows . . ."

Percy didn't bother to listen. The moment Bagman broke off to announce the outcomes, he hurried over to the small encampment where Madame Pomfrey was fussing over each Champion and hostage, tossing thick blankets around them, and forcing a generous gulp of Pepper-Up Potion down the throat of any student who looked too chilled for her liking. He let out a sigh of relief when he caught sight of Ron, still looking quite soggy, clouds of steam shooting from both of his ears.

"Thank Morgana you're alright," Percy chuckled, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. However, he was promptly shoved away.

"_Shh_, sod off, Perce, I'm trying to hear the results!" Ron hissed.

His concern for nothing beyond the Tournament brought a smile to Percy's face. Oh, to be younger, and have that lack of perspective again. . . . He shook his head and continued to laugh quietly to himself, overwhelmed with relief.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points."

A sea of yellow and black burst into the loudest fit of cheering he had heard all morning. Oh yes, that was true, Diggory _was_ from Hufflepuff House. Beaming, Percy lifted the glasses from his face and gently wiped any lingering water droplets from them, listening to the ecstatic roar in support of Hufflepuff's Champion.

_ She's Rhose's best friend. They're both in Hufflepuff._

George's words from the night of the Ball pounded against his skull, along with the deafening noise.

Diggory was from Hufflepuff House. . . . Percy thrust his glasses back on.

Calling it a long shot would have been generous. Trying to find Audrey amid a multitude of faces was nothing short of impossible. But she was up there, somewhere, most likely screaming her heart out for her Champion and hero. The fact that she and Diggory shared a House had not even crossed his mind when he'd voiced his opinions to the other judges, but it delighted him to know that, in a roundabout way, his Sickle's worth might have helped lead Diggory to the first-place victory he so rightly deserved.

" . . . _Most_ of the judges feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However, Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

Another earsplitting surge of screams. Percy watched Ron tackle his best friend, their other friend, Miss Granger, equally ecstatic. Indeed, every Gryffindor in the stands had risen to their feet, the other Houses offering their support with tamer cheers and applause. The sense of triumph and ownership was infectious, and even though it was more appropriate to remain neutral, Percy found his hands were politely clapping for Gryffindor's unintentional Champion. A small smile tugged at his lips, his old House pride roaring to life in his chest.

"The Third and final Task will take place at dusk on the 24th of June," Bagman concluded, a tad winded. "The Champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you for your support of the Champions."

And just like that, it was all over. The rumble of shuffling feet replaced the shouts and cheers as the students trooped back toward the castle. Percy cast his gaze all around one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of her . . .

"_You_ thought I was gonna drown, too? What the bloody hell is the matter with all of you?" Ron smirked and punched his brother's arm. "C'mon, Dumbledore was involved! We weren't in any danger."

Percy glowered at Ron and gave him a shove. "Alright, next time YOU sit through an hour knowing one of us is tethered to the bottom of the ice-cold Lake in an enchanted sleep, you can lecture me about how foolish it is to worry!"

"Definitely wouldn't be worried if it was YOU."

Percy fumed, but Ron grinned the instant he reacted. Damn it! When would he learn?

"C'mon." Ron chuckled and draped an arm around Percy's quivering shoulders. "Let's go see Madame Pomfrey about getting you a sip of that Pepper-Up Potion. I mean, if _anyone_ needs a swig . . ."

* * *

It was a statement of utmost fact that Hufflepuff House knew how to throw one hell of a party.

The wooden tables groaned under the weight of the food that had been "borrowed" from the kitchens, and the butterbeer flowed endlessly. It was a miracle Cedric got to enjoy a mouthful of any of it, because the moment he'd entered the Common Room, he'd been buried beneath a wave of handshakes, hair-ruffling, pats on the back, and countless hugs. At one point, he had even been hoisted atop the shoulders of his fellow Sixth Years, and beamed down at them all as every Hufflepuff cheered for their winning Champion.

The revelry lasted far into the night, and while Audrey had been having the time of her life—chanting and laughing just as boisterously as everyone else—she instantly lost interest in the party when one of the older students announced that he had a huge supply of Floo Powder. Audrey cringed as several excited whoops filled the air.

"Aw, come on, don't be such a prude, McGlasson!" the twins always cackled whenever they took a hit. "It sends you on one hell of a TRIP!" Every time, Audrey declined their offer, and tonight was no exception. Feeling awkward and out of place, she said a hasty goodnight to Rhose and scampered toward their dormitory.

As the round door in the wall closed behind her, she released a tremendous sigh. The noise from the Common Room was muffled, and the waiting stillness and quiet were comforting. Smiling to herself, Audrey went about her normal routine, preparing for bed, and giggled as she snuggled beneath her patchwork quilt, sinking into the warm, downy mattress. Parties were fun and all, but _this_ was the best . . .

_Not really one for parties, are yeh?_

_ Not particularly._

Frowning, Audrey shook the fleeting thought from her mind and drew the blankets tightly around her. Her eyes fluttered closed, but sleep evaded her. It was partly her own fault, she supposed. Her throat was raw from all the shouting, and she could feel a stomachache coming on—too much food, WAY too much butterbeer. . . . Recalling the sweet taste made her groan and clutch her belly. _Ugh_, never again . . . well, until the next trip into Hogsmeade, at least.

She spent the better part of an hour, or so, lying awake, allowing her mind to wander. Her unexpected conversation with Fred played continuously, blending with images of Percy's hair, so vivid against the black waters of the Lake. The rigidity of his shoulders and sureness of his posture as he'd sat beside the other judges . . . the flutter of his robes as he'd darted into the water to haul his younger brother to the shore . . .

Audrey sighed and nuzzled into her pillow.

Seeing him today had undone her completely. Was it really a good thing that any one person could have such a hold on her, could so strongly effect her feelings just by being close by?

Fred had seen right through her façade of indifference. Was he just that insightful, or was she flat-out bad at hiding anything? Well, alright . . . both were probably true. But had she been especially transparent because it had all revolved around Percy? Because, deep down . . .

She missed him.

And more importantly, she was ready to give him a second chance.

Even though Rhose and George had their reservations, even though she had NOT deserved that less-than-ideal goodbye the night of the Ball, she KNEW with every fiber of her being that this was the right thing to do. Fred was right. Percy wasn't a bad person. He certainly wasn't perfect, but he was someone Audrey very much wanted in her life.

She cast a nervous glance toward the door, straining to hear. The after-party continued to rage out in the Common Room, and as far as she could tell, no one would interrupt her anytime soon. With a mischievous smile, Audrey slipped out of bed and rummaged through her bag of school things, before hauling a weathered copy of_ Hogwarts, A History_, several sheets of parchment, and her quill and ink onto the mattress.

Fluffing up her pillows, she leaned back against them, pulled her feet in close, and tugged the quilt over her raised knees. She then propped the textbook onto her lap and laid the first sheet of parchment over it. Her makeshift desk complete, she opened the bottle of ink (perched safely beside her on the night table) and held her quill aloft, the nib inches from the paper.

Audrey drew in a deep, steadying breath.

The quill scratched across the parchment.

She began to write.


End file.
